


Wish I could say the same

by KitsuneArashi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, M/M, s12 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi
Summary: "Cas, buddy, you gotta wake up."





	Wish I could say the same

**Author's Note:**

> Small scene that popped into my head when I read a tweet from the S13 script bot. Basically a s12 finale coda.  
> This is super short because it was a series of tweets.

"Cas!" Dean ran to where Castiel lay, unmoving. He dropped to his knees and clutched tightly to his signature trench coat. 

"Cas, buddy, you gotta wake up." Dean plead as he stared at his hands, flinching back in horror as he took in the soot stained blood that now covered them. 

"You bring him back..." Dean whispered brokenly to the empty field, Sam standing a solemn vigil at his flank, watching his brother coming undone. "CHUCK, YOU HEAR ME? BRING HIM BACK!" Dean roared before he crumpled forwards to throw himself over the cooling body of his angel.

Sam snapped into action, “Dean we gotta get moving. He’s gone.” 

Dean clung tighter and quietly prayed, begged for Chuck to bring his friend back, just once more, even as Sam started to gather logs.

As Sam built the pyre for a hunter’s funeral, Dean mechanically started to tug the filthy trench coat off the limp form of his angel’s corpse, the quiet rustle of paper loud enough in the near silence to draw his attention to a photograph in the angel’s pocket. He drew it out curiously and felt his chest tighten painfully, each heartbeat thudding in his ears as he took in the short sentence written on the back, quickly flipping the photo over and back as he finally, finally understood.

“No Sammy.” He rasped quietly, pulling himself up painfully, knees sore and aching from spending so long kneeling in the soot and blood stained dirt. “Let’s bury him, like you did for me so long ago, just in case.”

“What’s that Dean?” Sam asked softly, already altering his course to fetch the shovels from the trunk of the Impala. 

Dean held the photograph up for Sam to see that it was nothing more than a candid photograph of himself, driving the Impala and smiling. He didn’t turn it around for Sam to see the words written on the back, those were meant for him alone and he hoarded them, branded them onto his aching heart. 

He prayed once more, this time to an angel who wasn’t listening, who could never hear him… "I wish I could say the same to you."


End file.
